And so it was over. Within a few feet of my lady lay my lord, dead, as suddenly, as recklessly, leaving behind him, as she had done, naught save mistakes and incompletion. It was over. "Let us take him home," whispered Lord Sandys, and sheathed his sword. CHAPTER IV SUSANNAH CHRESSHAM It had rained all night heavily, but now, in the early morning, cleared into a bright sparkle and freshness, it was like to the morning on which my lady had died, Susannah thought as she opened her window on the clear pure sunlight. She had never forgiven my lady, and the letter from Honoria Pryse had roused passive scorn into live anger; she disdained to allow herself to think of the Countess Lavinia, yet the image of Rose's wife would not be driven from her mind. She pictured my lady creeping downstairs to unload my lord's pistol, following him through the wet streets, lurking among the trees in the Park, and in the early dawn, buying poison in some evil little shop off Drury Lane, and coming back in her wet muslins to her cheerless splendour to die. Susannah shook herself and stared hard at the sunny sky; there were other things to think of--Selina for one. My lord's marriage would be announced to-day; she must write to Selina, in some way soften or break the sharp pain of the news. It was still so early that the Countess Agatha would be abed for a good while yet, but Susannah dressed herself and went quietly downstairs into the beautiful drawing-room. She liked this chamber at this hour, when there lay a hush over the house and the sun shone hazily through the silk curtain; she stepped softly and seated herself at the tulip-wood desk. Early roses stood in the delf vases, and their fragrant pungent odour filled the unstirred air; on the gold settee lay the programme of last night's fête, and beside it a couple of tickets for a fête to-day; on a chair rested my lady's mask and fan, left there carelessly. Susannah sighed and drew from one of the secret drawers of her desk the letter from Honoria Pryse. She had read it more often than she could have told, but she read it again and with intent eyes: "MADAM,--I have a message for my _Lord the Earl_ from my Lady the late Countess. You will understand why I never gave it before, and I cannot tell why I give it now, save that there seems no reason for withholding it, and it may ease you of some pain you have not deserved. My lord's _Brother was guiltless_ in the matter of the duel; it was the _Countess_ who unloaded the pistol; she followed to the Park, being, I take it, half _Crazed_, and when she was disappointed of her design to compass my lord's _Death_ she took her own life. First she bid me tell the _truth_, and here you have it to use for any end you will. "_With it, Madam, accept my Advice_. _The Earl_ whom you favour has nothing in him; _Marius Lyndwood_ is a better man, albeit a straight-laced fellow and not so pretty; let my _Lord_ alone and take the brother.